


Shut Up and Date Me

by MotherofBulls



Series: Why Hermione Has Never Seen Brazil [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxious Hermione, F/M, Fingering, First Date, Hermione hates Donald Trump, Sequel, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Thoughtful Draco, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 18:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13687449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherofBulls/pseuds/MotherofBulls
Summary: Sequel to "How the Granger Won Christmas"!!!!Hermione's been gone for nearly two months since that fateful Christmas Eve night where she and Draco Malfoy discovered one another. And she's ready to come home. But will he be able to crack her prickly shell when he takes her out for Valentine's Day?





	Shut Up and Date Me

**Author's Note:**

> ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE!
> 
> Sometimes.
> 
> In this case, it's happened. By popular demand, I have decided to write a sequel to "How the Granger Won Christmas," my piece for LightofEvolution's Let Your Heart Be Light, Christmas 2017 Advent event. I couldn't have done this without my amazing beta and friend, SaintDionysus.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hermione yawned as the insipid American president droned on and on about the importance of British/American relations. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had just fished fifteen words out of a cap and rearranged them over and over to write this damn speech. She chanced a glance at Kingsley and was relieved to find that he didn’t appear to be any more roused by the infantile politician than she was.

“How much longer?” she whispered to him.

A mild snort indicated he had been seconds away from nodding off. He examined the watch on his wrist. “We’ve got a dinner with the Vice President in an hour.”

She stifled her groan. That wasn’t exactly what she meant. What she truly wanted to know was how much longer they planned on staying in this country.

At the start of the year, several Department Heads, herself included, were invited to the United States to visit with both the Muggle—sorry… _No Maj_ —government and the MACUSA. It was supposed to be a quick two-week trip between New York and Washington. Mostly diplomatic nonsense. It had turned into a month and a half long bore wherein Hermione determined that Americans were the most exhausting people on the planet. Twelve-hour days were the norm. Coffee breaks were seen as weaknesses, and therefore everyone seemed permanently glued to their takeaway double-shot lattes. People bragged about how little sleep they required, like it was some great virtue. Plus their words were funny. If she heard one more person use the term “No Maj,” she was going to _Avada Kedavra_ herself.

She missed England.

“Fine,” she exhaled, rolling her eyes as the American president used the word “huge” for thirtieth time that hour. “But I swear to Merlin if the Vice President calls me ‘little lady’ again, I’m going to intimately acquaint his head with his arse.”

Kingsley shrugged. “I think you’re already too late on that one.”

Hermione sniggered as she fished her mobile out of her jacket pocket. The slight vibration sent happy little shivers up her spine. She hoped it was him.

It was him!

She checked the new message he sent her: _ **Kill me, please. Potter’s on paternity leave, and no one in the office will play with me. I’m bored.**_

Hermione smirked as she pushed down a little bubble of guilt. She hated that she had missed Lily’s birth, but Harry and Ginny insisted that she not come home for it. Mostly because they knew what a bitch she could be when jetlagged.

She typed a response: _**Kill ME. I’m fairly certain the American president is just a golem with a bad toupee. I’ve located the fire exits, and I think I might just make a run for it.**_

Mere seconds later her phone vibrated again. _**Get back here.**_

She bit her lip. **_I’m trying._**

Sweet Merlin, was she trying. There was nothing more she wanted than to get back to England where she could have a decent cuppa, go home at 5:00 on weekdays, and pick up where she left off the night before she was called away.

Between Draco Malfoy’s legs.

Granted, the two of them hadn’t done anything sexual beyond some heavy petting in Harry’s study during James’s birthday party. They hadn’t gone on a date, either. They were supposed to, but the following day— _Christmas fucking day_ —she had received an urgent owl from Kingsley asking if she could make this trip. The Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports had to cancel at the last minute, and Hermione, being husbandless and childless, was the obvious choice.

Draco had been sweet and understanding, assuring her that the two of them would meet up when she got back. In that time, he had purchased a Muggle phone, and the two of them had been texting relentlessly ever since. His messages were a source of comfort and excitement for Hermione. It was odd how easy it was to speak to him, considering the fact that she really didn’t know him that well. They had spoken more via text message than they ever had in person.

Truth be told, she was a little nervous about what would happen when she got back. She wasn’t exactly wonderful with relationships, not that she and Draco had any claim to one another. But they certainly had something. What if it wasn’t so easy in person?

Her phone buzzed. _**I figured out where to take you on our first date.**_

Her face heated in a ridiculous blush as another message followed.

_**I found a Muggle theater in Soho that shows old movies. Brazil’s playing ;)** _

The last time she kind of sort of watched that movie, she and Draco had nearly torn each other’s clothes off. They probably would have fucked on Harry’s couch if he hadn’t burst in and interrupted them.

She smirked as she typed her response. _**You bring the Firewhisky. I’ll make sure to leave my knickers at home.**_

 _Hermione Granger, you big, ol’ slut!_ Her phone buzzed in nearly record time.

_**Get back here. Now.** _

She groaned. Fuck. This. Trip.

 

*

 

_A week later..._

 

“I’m such a slag,” Hermione declared, regarding her reflection in the outfit she had chosen.

Tonight was hers and Draco’s first official date. It was Valentine’s Day, which was absolutely fucking terrifying. Hermione had never been a fan of the holiday and had assumed Malfoy would feel the same. When he asked her out for Valentine’s Day, a part of her almost wanted to turn him down. Then she remembered the sinful way his teeth pulled the delicate skin of her throat into his mouth as he ran his hands all over her.

It was an easy decision to say yes after that.

Her outfit was simple. Knee length black sweater dress, gray suede ankle boots, leather jacket. Nothing crazy. Nothing risqué.

Except for the fact that she wasn’t wearing any knickers underneath her smart little outfit.

She had debated wearing them. Teasing in text messages was one thing, but she doubted Draco would actually make a move on her tonight during their date. Then again, if he did, she would want to be prepared. It had been ages since she’d had a shag and if Draco Malfoy wanted to stick it to her, she wasn’t exactly going to dissuade him.

“Hermione, you big, _stupid_ whore.”

“Well, that’s not very nice,” Draco said.

Hermione snorted. Draco was such a prat.

Wait a minute…

_Draco!?!_

She screamed and instinctively grabbed her tennis racket.

Draco screamed with her, alarmed by her sudden outburst. When he covered his face with his hands, shielding himself from whatever she intended to do with that tennis racket, she sobered.

“I-I wasn’t expecting you.”

He straightened himself up, blushing furiously. “I was a bit early. I didn’t see you when I came through the Floo, so I thought perhaps you had popped out for a moment. But then I saw your bedroom door open and I…just…” Something in his face shifted. “Is this weird? This is weird. I’m weird, aren’t I?”

Hermione laughed. “Not at all. You’re um…” She coughed. “You look nice.”

Merlin almighty, he _really_ did. A Henley-style gray jumper and a pair of dark denims showed off his fit Auror body far better than his robes ever could. She’d bet anything Ginny helped him select that outfit.

He smirked. “You look nice too.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, um…this is for you,” he pulled a single, long-stemmed rose from behind his back and handed it to her. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Hermione’s eyes widened at the floral offering. “Thank you. Let me just…um…find a vase.”

“It’s charmed. It’ll stay fresh if you want to leave it out.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Draco hooked his thumb in the pocket of his jeans and looked around her room while she scanned the area for her purse.

“So,” Draco started. “Happy to be back?”

“Extremely,” she said, tucking her clutch into her side.

Another moment of silence.

“Shall we go?” Draco asked.

“Please.”

Mentally she was kicking herself. This was precisely what she was afraid of. They conversed with such easy flirtation when they were on separate continents, but the minute she was in a room alone with him, she became a charmless rube.

“Are those your parents?” he asked, pointing to a photo on the mantel.

“Oh, um…yeah.”

 _More fucking silence._ Where was that sexy, cool girl from the text messages? Why did she bring every conversation to a grinding halt? Especially when he was being perfectly lovely and making a saintly effort to engage her in conversation.

She sighed. “Let’s go.”

 

*

 

Dinner was nice. He brought her to a sushi restaurant she suspected Harry had recommended. It was one of her favorites, and she reveled in the familiarity of it. It made her feel slightly less awkward. She had worried that he would try to take her somewhere _too_ nice, given his wealth and his reputation as a snob. Normally, he probably would have, but she had made no secret to Harry and Ginny how nervous Draco made her. Draco, who had likely grilled the two of them about Hermione from the moment she left for the States, was obviously well-aware of this fact. Everything from the restaurant choice to his attempts to drag her out of her shell were effortlessly thoughtful.

She just wished she was better company for him. He was charming and gorgeous and she had been nothing but boring and weird all night. But oddly, he didn't seem to mind.

Just as she was popping a spicy tuna roll into her mouth, her phone buzzed.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Draco asked.

“That’s alright. I don’t want to be rude.”

He smiled kindly. “You should get it.”

“Oh, um…okay.” She retrieved her phone from her jacket pocket.

_**Hermione Granger owns a leather jacket. Who knew? It’s quite a good look for you. You’re hardly playing fair.** _

She bit back a grin and flashed her eyes at him. He sipped his sake, feigning innocence. “Was it important?” he asked.

“Extremely,” she said with a smirk. Suddenly she felt a lot more confident. She texted back: _**You’re one to talk. Have you seen you in those denims?**_

His phone buzzed. “I’m terribly sorry, would you mind if I checked that? It might be important.”

“By all means,” she said, sipping her Chardonnay.

He grinned warmly as he read her message. He looked up at her with a serious expression. “I apologize, but this is urgent.”

“Whatever you need to do, Malfoy,” she said, tucking into a salmon skin roll. Several seconds later, her phone buzzed again.

_**You’ve got me thinking, Granger. I wonder if you held up your end of the bargain. There’s a flask of Firewhisky in my pocket. You didn’t by chance happen to forget your knickers, did you?** _

She took a healthy gulp of wine to sooth her suddenly dry throat as she texted back: _ **Why don’t you make it your goal for the evening to find out, Malfoy?**_

He smirked at her as he took a sinful bite of his eel. “You look a little flushed, Hermione. Are you alright?”

“I’m wonderful, Draco.”

Suddenly she didn’t feel so awkward anymore.

 

*

 

They were sitting in the back of a darkened cinema, each pretending to pay attention to the opening credits. Usually, Hermione was a bit chilly in cinemas. This time, she was burning up. She shifted slightly in her seat, uncrossing her legs.

They had left dinner in twin states of arousal. Hermione was so worked up that when Draco took her hand, guiding them into a back alley to Apparate, she had to stomp on her own foot to keep from pinning him to the wall and riding him into next week.

She chanced a glance at him. He was staring glassy-eyed at the space between her legs from where she had uncrossed them. His hand twitched. She opened her legs a bit more, nudging her left knee closer to him.

He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I think this is how far we got in the film last time.” His voice in her ear made her spine tingle.

She licked her lips and leaned in to him. “I think we got a lot farther than this, don’t you think?”

He smirked at the reminder. In one painfully slow motion, he stroked the soft skin of her knee with his thumb.

Hermione opened her legs so slightly it was barely a movement. But he took it as an invitation as his warm hand encased her knee.

A low moan barely escaped her throat as his thumb rubbed tight circles into her flesh. Her legs fell open just a bit more.

Deft fingers slid slightly up the inside of her thigh. She wanted him to keep doing that. She wanted those long, warm fingers to slide all the way up her leg to her unclothed cunt. So, like any self-respecting, horny woman, she opened her legs a little bit more.

Draco licked his lips and shifted in his seat. Hermione let her eyes trail over his crotch and allowed herself a luxurious moment of victory to see the long, perfect outline of Draco Malfoy’s cock straining against his denims. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I wonder if I was right. Are you going to tell me, or do I need to find out on my own?”

Her breath hitched. “What would you prefer?”

Draco sucked in a sharp breath as his hand continued its journey up her skirt. When the pad of his index finger made contact with her wet, sensitive clit, Hermione nearly bit a hole in the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.

Each of them sat up a bit straighter, trying to maintain the illusion that they weren’t engaging in mild sexual relations in the middle of a crowded cinema. Their breaths were labored. Draco swallowed so loudly, for a moment, it drowned out the film. Hermione began to lift her hips while his index finger danced across her clit.

The movie raged on in the background, but Hermione was only vaguely aware of it.

_“Don’t fight it, son!”_

A pleasurable, hot itch began to build in her core as Draco slid his finger over her clit. His eyes were firmly set on the silver screen in front of them. The only thing that gave him away was that he looked like he was about to bite his tongue in half.

_“If you hold out too long, you could jeopardize your credit rating.”_

Somewhere in the depths of Hermione’s mind—the part that was still capable of forming sentences of more than one-word expletives—it occurred to her that Draco could not have chosen a nerdier movie with which to seduce her.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she whispered as the tip of his thumbnail grazed the edge of her labia. Someone shushed her, but she could hardly give a shit right now.

Draco leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Do you know how hard I am for you?”

Much like her dashing date, she’d rather check for herself. Her fingers trembled as she made the long journey over to his crotch. She ran her fingers over the outline of his hot erection, paying special attention to the tip. When she took it between her fingers and squeezed slightly, Draco hissed. “ _Fuck_.”

The same person shushed him. He ignored them and doubled the pace of his fingers.

Hermione’s knees started trembling. This was the beginning of the end. Her entire body felt like it was floating. The arches of her feet were on fire and white light pulsed through her very being. But Draco kept his pace leisurely, keeping her in this exquisite realm of torture, never pushing her forward. She whimpered. “Please go faster,” she whispered.

“Are you close?” he asked, an edge of desperation in his voice.

“ _Yes_ ,” she hissed.

But Draco didn’t speed up. She was his prisoner in this sexual purgatory. Hermione could feel her scalp begin to sweat. Her skin was on fire. A single, glistening tear fell down her face. Her legs had turned to jelly. “ _Please_.”

That same bitch shushed her again, and Hermione growled. “ _Fuck you, lady_.”

_“If you have any complaints to make, I’d be more than happy to send you the appropriate forms.”_

Stupid movie. Stupid cinema. Stupid woman shushing them every ten seconds. Why didn’t they all understand that the only important thing in the world was that Draco moved his finger just _a little bit_ faster? “ _Please_ ,” she begged again. Her needy clit felt like it was about to combust. Could a person actually _die_ from spending too much time teetering on the edge of orgasm?

Draco gulped. “You can’t pull a stunt like that again. Getting me worked up and then leaving the country for two months. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

The chair squeaked as she moved her hips to grind her clit harder into his fingers. His too-light strokes were enough to drive her to the point of insanity. Perhaps that’s where he wanted her—suspended in a pleasure daze, dangling an all-precious orgasm in front of her to make her feel remorse for her extended absence.

Fine. She repented. She _fucking_ repented. He fucking won. Anything he wanted, she would give to him. Just a little more…

“You won’t leave me again with a two-month-old boner, will you?” he whispered, nibbling on the curve of her ear.

She gulped. “Anything you want. Just let me come.”

So he did.

“ _Hmmm-mmm…nnngg_.” She bit her lip so hard, she drew blood as the steady heat in her core blossomed into the most colorful, explosive orgasm of her life. It seemed to invade her soul, inverting towards her womb before spreading out and filling her body with light. Hermione didn’t know how to explain the kaleidoscope of images behind her eyes and the ringing in her ears. Her body felt used and rung out.

She had never felt so good in her life.

Draco was panting as he removed his trembling hand from underneath her skirt. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “How badly do you want to see this movie?” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, just in case his intentions weren’t absolutely clear.

Hermione’s eyes squeezed shut as she struggled to catch her breath. “Not at all.”

“Good.” Without another word, Draco jumped out of his seat and reached to help Hermione stand.

Through the years, when Hermione reflected on that moment, she couldn't recall any details about how they made it to her place without splinching themselves. But everything that followed was branded clearly in her mind.

It felt _so_ good to be home again.

 

*

 

The next morning, Hermione’s bed was warmer than usual. Draco’s strong arms encircled her, pulling her against his naked chest..

Last night he had shown her with his hands, mouth, body, and cock, just how much she had been missed in England during her transAtlantic adventure. The bites and marks on her skin were testaments to the fact that he had turned her body into orgasm soup. How many had he pulled from her? She had lost count, but she knew that it was more than she’d ever had with anyone else, or even by herself, in one evening.

 _Pleasure. Pleasure. Pleasure._ So much touching and kissing and sucking. Wet tongues, hard cock, trembling bodies, sharp nails, dirty words. Sweet release.

Maybe she had wanted to shag Draco far longer than she would admit to herself. It would explain their chemistry. It had been the sort of sex that made a person think they and their partner had bloody _invented_ the act. It felt bigger than her. She fell in love with her body and her own femininity at some point in that endless night. She’d suspected she’d never not smell of him now.

But in the shrill brightness of the morning, she was no longer Hermione Granger, Sex Goddess. She was just Hermione. The spell was broken, and now she was awkward again.

A pair of warm lips connected with her shoulder.

She could pretend to be asleep. She didn’t know why that unbidden thought had suddenly occurred to her, but it bothered her that it was her first instinct.

_Be brave, you slut._

She turned around to face the owner of those sinful lips. He smiled brightly at her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Her stomach fluttered at the sight of so much warmth in those gray eyes. How could she ever have once thought they were cold? “Good morning,” he said, pressing his lips to hers.

“Good morning.” She pulled the sheet up to her chest and forced herself to stare at the neutral zone of his collarbone. “Draco?”

“Hermione?” _Cute._

She bit her lip. “What did last night mean to you?”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Was it just a one off?”

He visibly prickled at that question. “You can’t be serious.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you--”

“Hermione, nobody has sex like we did and calls it a one off. Last night was a beginning. At least I hope it was.” He licked his lips nervously. “Wasn’t it?”

She sighed. “I’m not good at beginnings. Or endings. Or really, anything in between.”

His jaw tightened. “Then why did you sleep with me, if you weren’t interested in dating me?” He threw the covers back and planted his feet on the ground.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” He didn’t look at her as he pulled his trousers on.

“Draco...”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just...I’m an idiot.” He stood up and started searching for his belt. He paused a moment and turned sharply to face her. “I just don’t understand _why_. Do you know how long I’ve wanted this? Last night was more than I ever dreamed of and I...I just think you should know that it... _meant_ something. To me.”

As he slipped on his shoes and pulled his jumper on, Hermione felt a pang in her chest. This wasn't what she wanted. Not really. Logically, letting him leave was the best option, but it somehow... _felt_ wrong.

Hermione’s brain tended to run the show 95% of the time. Roughly 4% of her thinking was done with her sexual organs, which was impressive considering that she was a young, healthy woman. And the rest--the consolation prize, the residual allowance for higher activity--it belonged to her instincts. They rarely had a moment to shine, so she had never learned to trust them. But in that moment, they kicked in, and she didn’t think twice before blurting out, “Draco Malfoy, you take off your _bloody clothes_ and get back in this bed right now!”

He stilled, moving his head slowly to face her. “Don’t tease me if you don’t mean it. That’s just cruel.”

Placing a hand on his arm, she implored him,“Just give me a minute to explain my hesitation before you go bolting out of here. That’s all I’m asking.”

He complied and sat down on her bed. “Go ahead.”

“I was awkward last night. In the beginning. I was worried you and I wouldn’t have anything to talk about.”

He scoffed. “I know that. That’s why I texted you during dinner. I thought it might make things easier for you.”

She smiled. “I know. It’s also why you took me out for sushi instead of haute cuisine. You’re amazing. Really, you are.”

“But?”

“But, I’m not the kind of girl you take out for Valentine’s Day and buy roses for.”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously you are because I did those things. And I thought we had a great time.”

“Sure, once the conversation turned to sex. But who’s to say you and I have anything in common outside of that? Just because we’re good together in bed doesn’t mean...well...anything, really.”

Draco clenched his jaw. “I wholeheartedly disagree. It definitely means something. And how the hell can you _possibly_ know that you and I won’t work if you don’t give us a fucking chance? You know, I waited _months_ for you. I thought about you every day. And if you think you can just cast me aside because of your fucking neurosis, then you’re not half as clever as you make yourself out to be.”

She held up a finger to correct him. “Technically, I don’t hold myself out to be clever at all. That Brightest Witch of Her Age rubbish is everyone else’s doing and—”

“Shut. _Up_. Just shut up and agree to date me, Granger.”

Her eyes softened. Every cell in her body wanted to say yes. This was usually where her brain kicked in and stopped her from having any fun.

But not this time.

“You really want this, don’t you? Even though I’m a neurotic mess?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “ _Yes_. I want to date you. Even though you’re an infuriating bint who tried to use me for my cock.” The softness in his voice betrayed the lack of vitriol behind his words.

Hermione grinned and chewed nervously on her bottom lip. “I want to. But my track record with  
this sort of thing is—”

“I thought I covered this back at Christmas, Hermione. Your track record isn’t shite because you’re a bad girlfriend. It’s shite because you date men who are wrong for you. _I’m_ not wrong for you.”

“You could be.”

“Maybe. But all I’m asking for is a fucking chance.”

The warmth returned to his eyes. He looked… _vulnerable_. Draco Malfoy was naked on her bed, looking vulnerable. “Can we…” she cleared her throat. “Can we start right now?”

He visibly relaxed, the softness in his eyes darkening. “Get your fine arse over here, Granger.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a romantic.”

He rolled on top of her. “Shut it, you swot.”

Somewhere between Draco’s tongue invading her mouth and his cock conspicuously hardening against her hip, Hermione had the presence of mind to ruminate on her decision.

_Don’t fuck this up, Hermione._

She wouldn’t.


End file.
